I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours the past three nights. I toss and turn, check my phone, and scroll through the social feeds a hundred times instead. I’ve typed at least ten texts to Evan, and then deleted every one of them. Each long and tortuous night.

It’s clear both my heart and my head are leading me back to him, but with each day that passes, I worry more and more that I’ve probably ruined the best relationship I’ve ever had.

It’s game day, so I need to focus on getting our pre-game feeds up before I meet Troy in the stands. We’ve got dinner plans right after the game, and I’m really looking forward to getting his advice on this whole situation.

Evan hasn’t texted me since Los Angeles. He’s been quiet on social media, and while I’ve seen plenty of photos of some of our other players out in the party scene, he hasn’t popped up in any of them. I don’t know what to make of this, and when I call Pam about it, she’s not really that helpful.

“You did it, Holls.” She doesn’t spare me even a tiny bit. “Now you’ve got to eat crow and make it better.”

“How do I start? What do I say?” And I really do not know how make it better, in her words.

“Maybe something like, ‘I jumped the gun and acted a fool. I should not have broken up with you?’”

“That’s…” I sigh. “Has Georg said anything about it?”

“How do you know I’ve even talked to Georg?” Her voice is heavy with annoyance, and I suddenly realize that the annoyance might not be directed toward me.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “I mean…it seemed like you two were enjoying each other’s company.”

“He’s a complicated guy, and I barely know him.”

“Really?” I ask, sounding incredulous even to myself.

“There’s really nothing to talk about Holls, truly.”

“Okay, but if you ever change your mind, I’m here.”

After we hang up I’m still left in limbo about how reach out to Evan and close the distance between us.

It’s a beautiful day, so I decide to take a run to try to mellow some of the anxiety I’m feeling. I run about seven miles before returning to the arena and heading into the ladies’ locker room for a shower. I dress in a short, black skirt, black Vans, and an off-shoulder Crush t-shirt that’s tied at one side. I pull my hair into a ponytail, put on a tiny bit of makeup, and head out into the tunnel to get some early Snapchat shout-outs.

The guys are all lined up and I can see Evan at the back of the line with Chalamet. As the team’s opening song comes on, the guys start heading out, giving me thumbs-up and waves as they pass. My heart stops in my chest when Evan passes. He stops for a moment and there is nothing but longing and want and hurt on his face. He doesn’t seem angry. He just stares into my eyes for a long time, the electricity thick between us.

“I’m sorry for everything I s-s-said to you,” I manage to whisper before swallowing the enormous lump in my throat, my heart surely cracking in two. “Go get ‘em out there.”

He nods once before skating out to the roar of our hometown fans as the pre-game ceremony starts.

I run up to my seat and find Troy already there. He pulls me into a hug and asks, “Evan joining us tonight?”

I shake my head, the lump in my throat growing larger by the second. “We’re—we’re not…”

“Okay.” He pats my knee, which is shaking like crazy. “It’s okay. We’ll talk about it.”

I nod again and the game starts. I’m so thankful, honestly, because it gives me something to focus on. But my heart continues to beat wildly throughout the whole game, especially if Evan looks up at me whenever he gets a chance.

“I’m not in any way an expert on relationships or love, Holly dolly, but I’d say he misses you,” Troy comments after the team breaks before the third period.

“You want to head off to dinner early?” I ask him. “I don’t have any post-game duties and I’ve got everything I need for social. I can post the scores and final few promos during dinner, once the game is over.”

“That’s fine,” he says, standing and leading me out.

We end up deciding to walk the mile or so to the restaurant. As we walk, I tell him all about how things went down after the incident at the bar. I fill him in on my decision to break things off, and about what Fiona said to me after the flare up with Kacey.

After I finish my story, he asks, “But are you in love with him?”

“I am.” I realize it feels wonderful to admit that out loud to another person. “I haven’t wanted to name it. It seemed far too soon or too risky. But I am in love with him. And I miss him very much, but I still don’t know how to make it right.”

“I think you just need to tell him. Tell him how you really feel.”

It’s such simple advice, but he’s right.

We eat at a small Italian restaurant that’s got a couple of screens along the bar. One has the game on, and I watch Evan pummel a guy into the glass—and get a penalty called on him. He sits in the box, seething, while Vancouver goes on a Power Play. When he comes back out on the ice, he’s all business, skating fast and tight, taking shot after shot on goal, scoring three times in five minutes.

The game ends with the Crush winning by one point.

I post our end-of-game updates on all of our feeds, and then put my phone down and ask Troy about his most recent recruiting efforts. He’s puts up a hand, though, as he peers at the television, even getting up and asking the bartender to turn it up. I follow him to the bar where we watch Chalamet take press from the ice. It’s a weird thing, because normally they let the guys shower first then head in for press wrap-up.

Chalamet talks about how exciting this season has been and how happy he is that he gets to go out on a year when the team is playing like one unit. The reporter, a guy from ESPN, turns the camera on Evan. His hair is matted with sweat and the bruise around his eye is a weird purply-green color. But he’s smiling, and his eyes are bright. None of that sadness from earlier is there.

I can see other reporters trying to clamber for position with their mics and cameras, including Kacey King, who yells out, “Where did that fire come from in the third period, Evan?”

He doesn’t look at her, he continues looking straight at the ESPN camera, and says, “I’ve had a lucky charm all season. She’s totally changed me as a man, and I think as a player, as well. Everything I’ve done this season, I’ve done with her at my side. And it was her I was thinking about when I went out there and pushed another win through for our team.”

I put my hand over my mouth as a surprised, emotional gasp escapes. I want to cry. I probably will cry. Troy puts his arm around me.

“I love you, Holly Laurent!” Evan yells into the camera. Then he gives a lopsided grin that makes my stomach flutter and says, “Tweet that!”

I laugh and cry at the same time, and without thinking too hard about it I thank Troy for dinner and start running. I run as fast as I can toward the arena to find Evan.

To tell him I love him back.